


We'll Burn The World around Us

by BlackWolf105



Series: Team Machine, Family Bonding [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical (not) Violence, Fluff, Random OC's - Freeform, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:53:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27156886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackWolf105/pseuds/BlackWolf105
Summary: "This is it."  Root twisted around in her seat, eyeing the man in sitting in the backseat of the black town car. “You sure you’re ready?”John’s eyebrow twitched at her mocking tone. “I’m not sure you know what you’re getting yourself into, Root.”
Relationships: (background) Root | Samantha Groves/Sameen Shaw
Series: Team Machine, Family Bonding [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982272
Comments: 1
Kudos: 42





	We'll Burn The World around Us

**Author's Note:**

> I really should be writing my Spanish paper.

“This is it.” Root twisted around in her seat, eyeing the man in sitting in the backseat of the black town car. “You sure you’re ready?”

John’s eyebrow twitched at her mocking tone. “I’m not sure you know what you’re getting yourself into, Root.”

“Please.” She turned back towards the windshield, watching the fence in front of them as the car was maneuvered skillfully into a parking space. “I can walk through a hail of bullets; pretty sure I can handle the two of you.”

Shaw snorted as she threw the car into park. “Remind me, Reese, how many times did she get shot doing that?”

Root turned a mocking glare onto the woman as John piped up amusedly from the backseat, “Twice I think.”

Shaw nodded, their eyes meeting in the rearview mirror, “You know I think you’re right, Reese.” She turned her head to Root. “You were saying, _sweetie_?” Sarcasm dripped from the final word.

Root narrowed her eyes at the pair.

Shaw’s lips quirked upward in what she may call a smile, before the other woman was out the door; chill morning air flooding the space she had vacated.

The sound of a door closing signaled Reese’s departure from the car.

Shaking her head, Root joined her companions by the open trunk.

Nose twitching with the sudden chill, she shoved her hands in her jacket pockets she watched John pull three black duffle bags from the back of the car.

“Shaw.” With barely a word, the other woman snatched the bag from his hands, throwing it over her shoulder and turning to watch the parking lot of sleepy and cold patrons. “And Root.” John held out a bag to her, which she took, idly noting the weight.

Frowning, she glanced down at the bag. “Exactly what did you pack?”

“Your guns, change of clothes, some food, water.”

Root raised an eyebrow. “I really shouldn’t be surprised that you two are taking this so seriously.” Her eyes scanned her companions. Shaw was dressed in mid-calf hiking boots, black jeans, and long-sleeved black shirt, complete with a dark green USMC hoodie. All in all, not super surprising for Shaw. John, on the other hand, was far more casual than Root could ever recall seeing him. Like Shaw, he was dressed in hiking boots and dark jeans with a black long-sleeved shirt, though his hoodie was a dark grey USAC one.

Root – in her black jeans, blue T-shirt, sneakers, and zip-up hoodie – felt over-dressed in comparison.

“No, you really shouldn’t.” Shaw sounded far too gleeful.

“And here I was, wondering why Lionel decided not to join us.”

“Hey there! My name is Kyle, and I’ll be your referee today.” Root raised an eyebrow at the chipper, smiling man standing in front of the group of twenty.

Upon entering the paintball arena, Root had graciously paid for the trio’s day passes and ammo; or at least a credit card with her face on it did. She wasn’t entirely sure if the card came from the Machine or Harold, but she had found it in the bottom of an overnight bag a few days prior, and it worked, so she didn’t think about it too much.

Without speaking, the three had agreed to forgo the “body armor” upgrade – after all, they got shot on a daily basis with _real_ bullets and didn’t bother to wear vests (though now that Root really considered it, she supposed that perhaps that wasn’t the best idea they’d ever had).

They had been randomly assigned to a few other small groups, and now they were all standing in front of a field which had been decorated to look like some kind of shipyard.

Beside her, Shaw shifted out of boredom as Kyle droned on about rules and such, her fingers twitching slightly against the side of the rather realistic rifle in her hands. John, armed with a similar gun, stood stock-still on her other side, face impassive as he listened to the safety spiel.

Root, for her part, had decided to forgo the typical rifle-style paintball guns, and instead had the Machine order her three pistols, two of which resided in either hand, and the third rested in a custom holster at the small of her back.

“Alright, I’m gonna split you guys into two teams now.” Root glanced back to Kyle just in time to see him hold up two rolls of duct tape – one bright blue and the other bright yellow. “To start, I’ll try to keep you guys in groups of friends, while keeping the numbers even, and after we play a few rounds, if the teams seem unbalanced, I’ll switch ‘em up. Cool?” There was a murmuring of assent from the group. “Awesome. So, if you guys can group up with the people you came with, I can set this up!”

Root, Shaw, and John all stepped back and formed a tighter group of three as the rest of the people moved to do the same.

Coming around, Kyle flashed them a smile – which only Root returned– before taking a strip of blue tape and encircling their biceps.

Looking around at the others nearby, Root saw that the three of them would be in a group with another party of five. It was a group of two older men and three teenage boys.

Seeing her gazing in their direction, one of the older men gestured for her trio to make their way over.

“Hey, I’m Richard. This is my brother, Tom, and his three boys – Keith, Billy and Mike.” Richard gestured to the three boys in order of age – oldest first.

“Root,” she replied, smiling at the man. “That’s Shaw, and he’s John.”

The guy nodded. “Cool. You guys ever been paintballing before?”

“No, first time for us.”

Tom looked impressed. “You guys have quite the equipment for first timers.”

“What can I say?” Root’s smile grew. “These guys are gun-nuts.”

One of the boys – Billy, Root thought – nodded, eyeing the sweatshirt. “I guess that makes sense.”

John just raised an eyebrow while Shaw smirked.

“Alright,” Kyle called everyone’s attention back to him. “Now that you guys have met one another, let’s get started. Yellow team, you’ll start on that side.” He gestured to the right. “And blue team, you’ll start there.” He pointed to the left. “Remember, face masks on at _all_ times.”

The groups nodded and started making their way towards the designated direction.

Root reached up and pulled on her face mask, her peripheral vision immediately cutting short as the plastic came down. “Is it possible to get a satellite view?” she inquired.

“What was that?” Richard looked over to her, slightly confused.

“Oh, sorry.” She smiled apologetically, even though he couldn’t see it. “Talking to myself.”

He nodded.

The Machine gave an affirmative answer.

“Excellent…”

Root glanced to her left, where she could just make out Shaw’s form lying prone in the grass; John was perched above her, having made his way on top of a cargo container.

Meanwhile, Root was crouched with her back to a container, waiting for the signal to move. All around her (or more accurately, to the left of her), she could make out the tell-tale _pop_ of the guns going off.

This particular round had been going on for about ten of the twenty minutes, and so far, three people from their own team had already been eliminated, and two from the opposing team.

The Machine chirped in her ear, and without thinking, Root twisted around the corner of the crate and, firing with her right hand, hit the woman trying to creep up on Shaw directly in the chest.

“ _Nice going, Root._ ”

Root smiled, despite knowing that John couldn’t see her. “Yeah, well, what else are teammates for?”

“ _Hey, Chatty_ ,” Shaw’s voice broke in, and glancing over, Root could her start to shift forward. “ _How about laying down some cover fire? I can see their sniper, but if I move he’s gonna nail me._ ”

Root heard John shifting over their coms. _“You got it, Shaw. You wanna tell me when?_ ”

“How about I tell you when.” Root took the proffered silence as agreement.

Letting out a breath, she waited as the Machine counted her down, “Now.”

Immediately, she heard John start firing as Shaw popped up off the ground, darting forward and hitting at least two enemy players before sliding behind cover. As soon she hit the ground, she started firing towards the man she’d pointed out earlier.

Meanwhile, Root took the opportunity to slip around the other side of the container and, keeping low, managed to hit one of the men from behind.

Moments later, they heard a whistle blow, signaling the end of the match.

Standing up, Root tucked on the pistols under her arm and brushed the dirt from her jeans as Shaw stood, a smirk still on her face; the slight _thud_ behind her indicating that John got off the crate.

Making their way back over to the larger group, Root noted that she, Shaw, and John were the only three that didn’t have some kind of paint on them.

Kyle looked around at the group, his gaze lingering slightly on the three of them. “Alright, so it looks like we may have to rearrange teams a little bit.”

He pulled the yellow duct tape form his pocket and gestured between the three of them. “Which one of you wants to switch teams?”

John and Shaw both spoke up before Root could even process what was being asked.

“Her.”

Root swore under her breath as she narrowly avoided a paintball to the face, courtesy of Shaw.

Her leg was smarting from the hit she took to the calf – apparently kneecapping was a habit John couldn’t break, even when it didn’t count to get her out of the game. Part of Root thought he was just doing it to be a prick.

The Machine played an ascending tone, and without looking, Root swing her gun towards the right, the paintball slamming into the abdomen of someone she was pretty sure was Keith.

Seconds later, a paintball slammed into her hand, causing most of the feeling to disappear in an instant.

Throwing herself back behind cover, she looked over to find that Vanessa – one of her new team members – had crept up behind her, taking the other side of the crate.

The other woman glanced down at the paint coating Root’s hand and winced. “Damn, that must smart.”

Root shrugged. “Not as bad as you would think.”

She’d take a paintball to the hand over a bullet any day.

Through the mask, Root could see that the other woman looked skeptical. “Whatever you say.”

No sooner had the words come out of her mouth, a descending tone sounded in Root’s ear.

Moving quickly, she threw herself backwards, letting Vanessa catch the oncoming paintball in the side; as the woman let out a cry of pain, Root rolled forward, and hit the approaching man with two shots in the chest before coming to a stop behind boulder.

Smirking, Root waved to the blue guy as he stalked off the field.

By Root’s count, that left John and Shaw as the only blue team members not eliminated.

Letting out a breath, Root considered her options.

The match had only a few minutes left before it was called, so one option would be to hold out until then – have the match called a draw. Her own team was fairly sparce at the moment, and if the _pop-pop-pop_ of gunfire and the subsequent swearing was any indication, it was getting smaller.

 _Or,_ Root smirked as the Machine played a warning trill, _I can just do this_.

Holding still, she waited until the Machine gave the cue before throwing herself around the side of the boulder and firing with both hands, managing to tap Shaw twice in the chest as the other woman tried to sneak up on her.

Smirking, she stood; the Machine let her know that John was too far away to accurately aim with Root partially obscured by both the boulder and a tree.

Through the face mask, Root could see Shaw glaring at her as she lowered the gun.

Root gestured towards the paint coating Shaw’s chest. “I always knew I’d shoot my way into your heart.”

She thought it was hilarious.

If the two paintballs to the face were any indication, Shaw didn’t agree.

“How are you so good at this?”

Yet again, Root somehow found herself hiding with Vanessa. Except this time, instead of hiding behind a boulder, they were huddled inside a small lean-to.

“Great spatial reasoning skills.”

Vanessa frowned at her. “Really?”

Root shrugged, swinging her right arm out behind her and hitting the man trying to sneak up on them in the stomach.

Vanessa just stared.

“Come on, Shaw, just surrender already.” Root winced slightly as the space around her suddenly filled with the sound of paintballs hitting hollow metal. “I’ll take that as a _no_.”

Laying on the ground, Root wiggled under the window, turning to brace her back against the metal of the container she’d found herself in, mentally cursing herself for thinking that it was a great hiding spot.

“ _Why don’t_ you _surrender, Root?_ ”

“Oh, _now_ we’re using the coms again?”

“ _Reese and I have been using them. Not our fault you’re not on the team._ ”

“Well, actually–” Root was cut off by another series of paintballs.

Gesturing for Vanessa to move forward, Root quickly threw herself out from behind the old car, firing a fair number of paintballs, all of which managed to hit their target.

With a sigh, John lowered his gun and raised both his arms into the air, giving her a begrudgingly impressed look.

“That’s what, three-zero?” Root smirked from behind her mask.

John just rolled his eyes. “I’ve noticed you only went after Shaw once.”

Root batted her eyes at him, “Please, John, I’ve gone after her far more than that.”

Vanessa looked between the two of them, confused, as John snorted, shaking his head. “I’m not sure I’d let her hear you say that.”

“Its not like she doesn’t kno–” Root cut off as all of a sudden her left knee gave out in a sudden flair of pain.

Twisting quickly, she fired behind her, narrowly missing Shaw as the other woman gracefully dove out of the way; rolling out of it, she came up, taking the shot for Root’s chest at the same time Root fired.

The paint balls stuck at the same time, paint splattering across both women’s chests just as the whistle blew.

Shaw swore loudly, glaring down at her paint covered sweatshirt.

Standing up, Root brushed at her own smarting chest, before smiling seductively at Shaw. “You know you didn’t need to shoot me, Sweetie; you were always in my heart.”

“What…?”

Both women turned towards Vanessa who was staring between them, a baffled expression on her face.

“Don’t worry about it.” John shrugged as he started walking away. “Its all part of their foreplay.”

Later, both women would claim that getting kicked out of the arena was worth the satisfaction of shooting Reese.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! If you feel so inclined, comments and kudos are always appreciated!


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